#illustrated poem

[and-corn]

[nev4chii]

“I don't count”

Or something like that, somehow I can never come up with titles for these things 😭........

[anonymous-witness777]

Dear Wilderness, a zine I made for class

[laurakwatson]

SMALL CONSOLATIONS FOR LETTING IT SLIP BY UNNOTICED

A little karaoke poem I wrote back in 2019. Between writing and illustrating this poem, a global pandemic happened, the bar shut down, we stopped singing karaoke, we found new places to sing karaoke, I painted my kitchen, and I got a cat. I miss the old Sackville but I like the new Sackville too.

(From my zine, Small Consolations, made with support from The Canada Council for the Arts. Thanks to them!)

[wormyorchids]

The foldout for my soon to be printed zine, Letters from the Memory Forest! 🖤🌲

[theclod3215]

Excerpt from Invictus by William Ernest Henley, 1888

[fandomsoda]

Inktobertale day 27

Poem

wrote and illustrated a poem about Ink (not entirely canon-adherent)

Sense of self withers away

Blank fanged smile on my face Devoid of eye lights

Bottle dopamine and serotonin just to survive

So much power, but I’m still so small

Wooden bones, a balljoint doll

Precious little puppet

I feel but I still don’t live

They say that I can’t love

But I have too much to give

[maaagic-art]

Digital Fish (poem, font, and art all by me)

[mossthewizard]

The trees they harbor southward

The moss upon their base

And I’m return the moss rewards

A shade of green and grace

Thank you for the lovely poem, anon.

[c-show]

C. Show

[and-corn]

[capegloam]

how about now?

[soft-graphite-animal]

Tithe

by S. C. Oak

Crossing the street, I am certain that I will be counted among the cats and dogs and skunks and snakes who need very little, but whose inborne calculus could not account for everything.

Even the goldfinch Who just yesterday carried a french fry the size of his whole body triumphant who can weave between wind-whipped branches with thoughtless grace mistook the derivative for the tangent.

How can there be any grace for me?

I cannot sing or whistle. Walking, I collide with my own legs.

I need help with so many things.

Stepping up onto the sidewalk, I strike a bargain.

A french fry for the goldfinch,

Biting down —on the barrel ——-of a pencil ———–for the orange cat savoring the sound of tearing wood.

A shout in a quiet room for the black dog.

Birdseed for the grackle and for the skunk (Who loves a stash of anything)

I will not eat mice for the snake (what would I eat for the mouse?) but maybe a cricket, or a short rest in a warm place.

Wondering what raccoons like I think of one, on Nutmeg Street and stuff my cheeks with cat food. Dry, salty, not altogether bad.

My domestic obligate carnivore friends watch in stillness while I pay our tithe

[maryannlores]

Illustrating a poem I wrote its my free therapy. Have this shit (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

[laurakwatson]

SPELL FOR THE END OF THE WORLD

A little zine about the end of the world from 2020.

(Made with support from CAFKA- Contemporary Art Forum Kitchener and Area, Canada Council for the Arts, and CBC/Radio-Canada.)

[agentmmayy]

a birthday poem for my star sister @152glasslippers ✨️💖🌠